After the Summer Rain Read online

  And so it went. Melanie got swallowed up in the group, all asking—and telling—how their gardens were faring so far, who had lost a chicken to the coyotes, whose momma goat gave birth, who had vegetables to trade and so on. That was usually the extent of their visiting at these monthly dinners.

  These were her people now, her tribe. They all got along well enough, she supposed. She often wondered, if Stella didn’t hold these, how many of the ladies would gather on their own. There were five couples. The rest were single. Most everyone had been here for decades except for her and Angela. Angela had joined them two weeks after her fiftieth birthday, three days short of Melanie’s first-year anniversary. How many times during that first year had she wondered if this had been a mistake or not? How many times had she been ready to throw in the towel?

  “Melanie, honey, I need your help one day this week, if you’re free.”

  She nodded at Rebecca. “Of course.”

  “I’ve got those limbs hanging over the garden. They’ve gotten so big, they’re shading my corn.”

  “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  And she would. She was the youngest and most able-bodied. She and Angela did most of the heavy lifting, helping out where needed. She knew Stella worried about them all getting older with no “young blood” coming up the pipeline.

  It had been six years since Angela had moved there, the last to join them. Out in the real world, times were different now. There weren’t that many wanting to escape from a heterosexual society like Stella had done all those years ago when she and her lover had retreated out here where they could live free and open, without any prejudices or homophobia. Things had changed, though, and gay marriage was legal. The reasons for moving out here now would be completely different than the reasons Stella, Rachel, and the others had come for.

  The reasons might be different, but the outcome was the same.

  To escape.

  Isn’t that what she had done?

  Chapter Four

  “You really didn’t have to come with me.”

  “Dad strongly suggested it.” Joyce glanced at her. “He was afraid that when you landed in Albuquerque instead of heading south you’d take off for Vegas or something.”

  She looked out the window as Joyce drove them into the Gila National Forest. It was prettier than she’d been expecting, although she really hadn’t had time to research the area. She hadn’t had time to research anything, really. It seemed like once she’d agreed to this—forced—vacation, Joyce had had her packed and on a plane in a matter of days. She hadn’t spoken to her father since that day in the office. He’d tried to contact her, but she ignored his calls. Her emotions were still too…too raw.

  “Have I told you that I don’t want to do this?”

  “About a hundred times.”

  “I’m worried about my projects.”

  “Dad can handle them. He managed quite well before we all came on board.”

  She let out a loud sigh as she again stared out the window.

  “Looks like Colorado,” Joyce mused.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “That’s right. I forgot your idea of a vacation is New York City or some faraway beach destination crawling with tourists. Carl and I went to Colorado three years ago, you know.”

  “I remember. You took some train or something.”

  “From Durango to Silverton. Fantastic views. This makes me want to go back.”

  Yeah, she’d rather be heading to a crowded, touristy beach right now. Not the East Coast, though. That brought back too many memories. Sarah was the one who had loved the city. They traveled there twice a year, and yes, that’s where Sarah had met her new lover. Erin doubted she’d ever want to return to New York again.

  “This is kinda out in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”

  “I think that’s the point, sis.”

  “I’m going to go stark raving mad if I’m stuck out here for three months. I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

  “You know what the alternative was.”

  “Why couldn’t you have found a beach resort in Cancun or something?”

  “So you could do what? Lay on the beach and drink rum for three months? Dad was insistent that you get away somewhere safe. Somewhere where you can clean up—physically and mentally.”

  “I know you both think I have a drinking problem, but I don’t. I’ve managed the last two days without a drop.”

  “I’m not saying that you needed a twelve-step program or something, Erin, but you were using alcohol to cope with your stress and that’s never a good thing. Not when you have such enormous stress as you had. Self-induced stress, I might add.”

  “I’m competitive, what can I say?”

  “It was more than that and you know it. You went overboard. You made a lot of money, you made our company a lot of money, but at what cost?”

  “I’m well aware of what the cost was.”

  “You’re talking about Sarah, I suppose?”

  She nodded. “Of course I’m talking about Sarah. She was the love of my life. I lost her.”

  “Oh, Erin, she was so not the love of your life.”

  “She was, yeah. And I ran her off. Not only did she no longer love me, she no longer even liked me.”

  “You did it for her.”

  “Did what?”

  “Changed, Erin. You changed because of her. For her. You became this…this person that none of us knew anymore. She’s the one who wanted the big house. The elaborate pool. The new car every other year. The four expensive vacations you took annually. She’s the one who pushed you to work every day. She always wanted more and you tried to give it to her. I’m sorry to be so blunt, Erin, but—emotionally—she sucked you dry. I don’t think there was any love involved. She was a taker, not a giver.” Joyce reached across the console and squeezed her arm. “I had hoped that when she left, you’d change back to your old self, but no—it got worse. Much worse.”

  Was that how it had been? Her working longer, harder, trying to please Sarah? No. She’d done it willingly. She wanted those things too. She liked the big house, the pool, the new cars. She liked dashing off to New York City twice a year. She loved the cruises they took to the beach resorts in Mexico. They had fun. It was always fun with Sarah.

  “It wasn’t Sarah’s fault.”

  “Why are you defending her?”

  “I know you never liked her.”

  “No one liked her, Erin. She was using you. Everyone could see that except you.”

  “No!” Erin said forcefully. “She didn’t use me. I loved her. She broke my heart when she left.”

  Joyce stared at her and slowly shook her head. “I wish you could see what she did to you. She used you, Erin. She turned you into…into this,” she said, motioning at her.

  “She loved me. For a while…she loved me. I know she did.”

  “She zapped the life out of you, Erin! Look at you! I’m taking you to some remote ranch in New Mexico, for God’s sake, so you can sleep and eat and…and detox!”

  Erin looked at her sharply. “Detox? So you and Dad really thought I needed rehab?”

  “Dad did, yes. In your case, I think the detox is more for caffeine than booze,” she said, looking at the Red Bull Erin was holding. “I think you’re addicted to those things.”

  “I am not,” she lied.

  “You’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Like you said—it’s in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think you’ll be able to run to a convenience store on the corner and get your fix.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, she stood in the parking lot of a local grocery store, her eyes darting between four gray-haired, smiling women and Joyce. She shook her head slowly.

  No, no, no, no!

  There was no way she was getting in a vehicle with them. No way was she letting them take her away to some remote ranch in the middle of nowhere.
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br />   No way in hell. Nope. She wasn’t doing it.

  She looked at Joyce and shook her head. “No.”

  Joyce met her gaze. “Yes.”

  Chapter Five

  “I see you checking your phone, dear. Did your sister not tell you?”

  Erin looked over at the woman driving—Stella. She raised her eyebrows. “Tell me what?”

  “We don’t get service out here for cell phones.”

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  Stella smiled broadly. “It’s part of our rustic charm. A few of us have phone lines, though. If there’s an emergency or you want to talk to your sister, you can use my phone.”

  “These young people with all these fancy gadgets they bring with them. Not a one of them works out here,” came a voice from the back.

  Erin glanced over her shoulder at the three elderly ladies in the backseat. She didn’t remember their names. She’d been at a complete loss for words when Stella and her crew—all gray-haired grannies—had met them in Silver City. They’d been to the grocery store, they’d said, and the older model Suburban’s third seat had been filled with bags. Colorful, homemade shopping bags that she assumed the ladies had sewn themselves.

  She had looked at Joyce, on the verge of begging her not to leave, on the verge of tears. But Joyce had hugged her tightly and told her she loved her.

  “See you right back here at this spot in three months. Right at this spot.”

  “Please don’t leave me here,” she’d whispered. “Please?”

  “It’s going to be fine, Erin. The time will whiz by. Work on your health,” Joyce had said. “In here,” she said, touching her chest. “And in here,” she added, touching her head.

  Then Erin had been whisked away, her luggage stowed in the back. Stella, surprisingly strong for her size, had tossed her bags on top of two sacks of what she’d called “hen scratch.” Whatever that was.

  “So, really… No cell service? No Internet?”

  “What’s Internet?”

  “Oh, Rachel. Remember when Melanie was explaining it? You go places on computers.”

  “Melanie set up our website, Rachel. She showed it to us all one day, remember?”

  Erin grabbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed. Where in the hell were they taking her? No cell service? No freaking Internet? How could they possibly live like that?

  She looked again at the driver. Stella. She was small, petite, her gray hair cut short above her ears. She moved gracefully, though, and she seemed rather spry for her age, which she’d proudly announced to Erin when they’d met. Seventy-five. The ladies in the back were surely in their seventies as well. She turned her head, finding all three looking at her, all smiling.

  “You get to bunk with me,” the oldest of the three said. Rachel. The one who didn’t know what the Internet was. “We’re going to have so much fun, Erin. Do you knit? Sew?”

  Erin breathed deeply as she turned away. Knit? She was so going to kill Joyce. She’d be lucky to make it three days out here, much less three damn months.

  “What is that you’re drinking, dear?”

  Erin glanced at the Red Bull she had shoved between her legs. “It’s a…an energy drink.”

  “Energy?”

  “Caffeine.”

  “Like coffee?”

  “No. This is…well, this one is cranberry. It’s sweet. Like…like juice, I guess. It helps you stay awake.”

  Stella blinked at her. “Why do you need help staying awake?”

  “Because I don’t always get enough sleep, I guess.”

  “I sleep dusk to dawn,” Rachel supplied. “Same as the chickens.”

  “You don’t have chickens anymore, Rachel.”

  “Well, I know that, of course. I’m just saying…”

  Erin cleared her throat. “So, what is it that I’ll be doing out here?”

  “Doing? Well, living, of course,” Stella said with a smile. “Hopefully better than you were. Your sister indicated that you had some healing to do.”

  Healing? She should have researched this place before she’d agreed to it. Joyce had only hit on the highlights. Of course, like she’d said. What was her alternative? But really, what was this place they were taking her to?

  “What I mean is, what do you offer here for amenities? Is it like a dude ranch or something?”

  “Dude ranch? No, no, no.” Stella gave her a good-natured smile. “Our guests come here to get away from their life for a while. Most find they connect with their spiritual side. Or a higher power. There’s no stress out here, Erin. We live a simple life, but it’s so rewarding. You’ll have time to meditate, to take long walks, to read. To do whatever you please. Well, within reason, of course. We’re a loving community and we all help one another out. Rachel, your host, is eighty-two. It would nice if you helped her in her garden, for instance.”

  “Garden?”

  “Yes, her vegetable garden, although it’s very small this year. She doesn’t keep chickens anymore, like Valerie said, but everyone shares with one another. Now, we do have a few rules, Erin. I assume your sister went over it all with you.”

  “Rules? No, she didn’t mention rules.”

  “Oh. Well, the most obvious rule: No men are allowed. Now, some of our ladies have family members—brothers and such—and they’re welcome to visit, but they can’t stay on the ranch overnight. Women only.”

  “Women only?”

  “Yes. It’s womyn’s land. And there are absolutely no drugs or alcohol allowed either. Why, I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since I was in my twenties. And we are a compassionate, peaceful group too. We don’t kill or eat animals. Animals are our friends.”

  “You’re all…vegetarian?” she asked weakly.

  “Oh, yes. Your body will love you for it, Erin. You’ll thrive out here. And I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but you could stand to put some meat on your bones.” She laughed. “Meat! See what I did there? We don’t eat it!”

  I’m going to kill Joyce, she thought as she turned away from Stella’s smile and the laughter coming from the backseat. She stared out the window broodingly. No meat? No booze? No Red Bull? Did they even drink coffee?

  They were between the mountains now, and the terrain was brown and arid here with only a smattering of trees. Joyce had made it sound like she’d be staying in paradise, along a lush, flowing creek with high mountains all around. A vacation in paradise, she’d said. There were mountains around, yes, but there was no lush green paradise to be seen. And Joyce had conveniently failed to mention Stella’s rules.

  She leaned her head against the window, her chest tightening with emotion. She was alone. She was depressed. She felt like crying. She closed her eyes tightly, afraid she would actually cry. She was thirty-three years old. How would she explain tears to these women?

  She opened her eyes again when she heard the Suburban’s blinker. Stella slowed, then turned to the right. She stared out at the passing scenery, noting the dry, arid brown was changing again. Tall pine trees now lined the road and there was a river beside them, its water bouncing over huge rocks on its way down the mountain. Joyce had been right. There were no convenience stores to be seen.

  “We follow the river nearly ten miles before we get to our property,” Stella said. “The river doesn’t flow on our land, but Eagle Creek does. It’s a nice creek, almost as big as the river here. We’ll cross a bridge a little ways up, right where the creek meets the river. Our property is on the other side of the bridge. As a rule, we venture into Silver City once a month at least. Other than that, we live out here in peace. It’s so beautiful. You’re going to love it, Erin.”

  Love it? Oh, she was so not going to love it. What in the world was she going to do out here for three months? No alcohol? No meat? No steaks or burgers? No cell phone. No Internet?

  Jesus. Where were they taking her? To hell?

  Chapter Six

  Melanie sat down and leaned back against the tree—a large ponderosa. Her tree. Af
ter seven years, she’d nearly rubbed the bark smooth where she rested. It was her usual stopping place when she took this particular walk along the dry creek bed. Fred, the old mutt of a dog that she’d inherited when she moved here, plopped down beside her.

  Fred was a nondescript white dog with half his tail missing. He was at least fifteen years old. He wasn’t particularly friendly or sociable, but he always alerted her whenever predators came near her little farm. When he was around, that is. She may have inherited him, but he made the rounds, staying a night or two, then moving on to someone else’s house. When he was around—like this morning—he followed her when she went hiking. When he’d had enough, he simply turned around and went back home.

  Yes, home. The little cabin she’d built had become her first true home, she admitted. It wasn’t that long ago that she feared she’d never find peace, much less a place to call home.

  When she had escaped Phoenix, she thought she’d go someplace greener, wetter…cooler. She wanted to take at least a year, maybe two, to get her head on straight. She smiled, remembering when she’d said those very words to her therapist. The solution seemed simple enough: quit her job, sell the house and everything she owned, and live somewhere on the cheap. Her idea of cheap and real life didn’t mesh, though. She’d stumbled upon the idea of living remotely—on womyn’s land—after reading an article about a group of lesbians living in Kentucky. She’d researched it and it had sounded ideal. She’d contacted them, had even gone out to visit. But she found it too different from what she was used to. Too green, too wet…too buggy. And the women? Much like here, actually. Sixties and seventies. She didn’t get a good feel from it, however. More research landed her on Stella’s doorstep a month later.

  She took her straw hat off and tossed it on the ground beside her, pausing to run her fingers through her damp hair. The breeze felt good and she leaned her head back, looking up into the trees. She spotted a fuzzy tuft of thistle floating lazily overhead and watched as the light wind carried it along, missing pine boughs by inches as it stayed afloat. It flitted across the dry creek, finally getting stuck in one of the thick junipers on the other side. She stared at it for a moment longer, wondering how far it had traveled. As she stared, the wind lifted it again. She smiled as it floated out of sight…continuing on its journey. With a contented sigh, she picked her hat up and settled it back on her head.